


Fine

by Arrestzelle



Series: Rammstein Requests [10]
Category: Rammstein
Genre: Arguing, Drabble Collection, Drunkenness, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mutter Era, Open Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23403796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arrestzelle/pseuds/Arrestzelle
Summary: Till and Paul have plans to meet up and have fun together. Till shows up drunk.
Relationships: Paul Landers/Till Lindemann
Series: Rammstein Requests [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1523702
Comments: 11
Kudos: 34





	Fine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tea_limeman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tea_limeman/gifts).



> This is a drabble request for @neo-classico on Tumblr. Hope you like it, Lou!
> 
> This is [Mutter](https://66.media.tumblr.com/8432c52688e5eb41193483090dfceb38/df895e94274cdb15-43/s400x600/2d3ff4f82bfdb27d03226d1d938558fca7c38e96.jpg) [era](https://66.media.tumblr.com/739fa4965ad3342d27de96ac0e4b9e1c/df895e94274cdb15-61/s500x750/3f9657b714d9e4d71d7e10c75e640b320850d24c.jpg).

Somehow, Paul finds himself lounging on Till’s sleek leather couch within his Berlin home. His feet are kicked up on the ottoman, a Kerrang! magazine lazily clutched in his hands. He flips through it mindlessly, wondering why Till even has this on his coffee table. They’re not even featured in it. Not that Till ever gave a shit about articles about them.

He checks his watch again. He’s been here for an hour, waiting for him. They’ve come to an agreement that the weekend is typically the best time to meet up and fool around, and that’s how Paul ended up alone in his place. His interest in the magazine is slipping away, to refocus on Till’s liquor cabinet. While he does toy with the idea of infiltrating his collection for his own enjoyment, he knows that it’s not as fun without the other man. Where is he, anyways?

Paul is just beginning to contemplate digging out his phone to call him when he hears heavy footsteps and the jingle of keys. He sits up, tossing the magazine atop the coffee table, and looks over with a growing smile to see Till shove his way in through the front door, kicking off his boots before he even shuts it behind himself.

“Hey!” Paul greets, earning a glance from hazy green eyes. They’re glassy, and the way Till nearly stumbles face first into the wall as he struggles to remove his shoes is enough of an indication that he’s drunk. Paul’s smile disappears. He stands from the couch, crossing his arms. Till trudges through the entryway towards the bathroom. Paul follows him.

“What are y’doing here?” Till grumbles, pushing into the bathroom and lifting the toilet lid. Paul stands in the doorway, watching with a frown as the other man takes a piss, apparently a much needed one considering how long it lasts.

“Oh, you know,” Paul begins, watching Till wash his hands, “I came by just to admire your wall art. And flip through your magazines. I did enough of that, so I think I’m good to go. You’ve been drinking, haven’t you?”

Checking his watch again, Paul continues, saying, “It’s not even twelve yet.”

“Since when do you care?” Till grumbles, sluggishly wiping his hands off. His red hair is a mess, as Till seems to notice. He proceeds to run his wet hands through it, fixing it up until his longer bangs fall across his forehead and brow like always. Paul watches him with displeasure. Till turns towards him, but doesn’t look at him. He pushes past the younger man and into the living room.

“I care,” Paul begins sharply, following him, “Because as you know, we’ve made plans to spend time together this weekend. Or would you rather forget about it? If you’d rather drink, fine. I can just leave and come back tomorrow.”

“I don’t care what you do,” Till replies lowly, his voice heavy with obvious intoxication, “You can stay if you want to.”

He continues into the kitchen to grab something from the fridge; Paul realizes it’s two bottles of beer. Till turns to him and holds one out, his bleary eyes swimming over Paul’s face. Paul just stares at him, arms crossed, face stern. Till shrugs and firmly plants Paul’s beer on the kitchen counter.

“So you’re blowing me off?” Paul says flatly, watching the other man twist the bottle cap off and take a swig of his beer, “What, did you already get your fill with some woman? Is that why you’re drunk?”

Till lowers the bottle and looks at him flatly.

“Don’t even start. You know what you agreed to.”

“Don’t treat it like just some business proposal!” Paul scoffs, “If you really see it that way, that’s truly sad.”

Till’s eyes are sharp, flicking up towards him past his red bangs.

“I don’t.”

“Fine,” Paul begins with an abrupt gesture of his hand, watching Till casually roll the bottle cap between his big fingers, “Then what do you want? Do you want me to stay?”

Till sighs. He tosses the bottle cap towards the trash bin; he’s not even close. It ricochets off the floor and hits against the wall. Paul watches him unwaveringly, his slim fingers wrapped tightly around his own biceps. Till tucks his chin, bottom lip jutting, and seems to find his plain black shirt incredibly intriguing.

“I didn’t sleep with anyone,” Till grumbles, his glassy eyes panning back up to meet Paul’s as he takes another drink of his beer. He stares at Paul’s crossed, muscular arms, mumbling, “I drank alone. At a beer garden. I was just enjoying… Solitude. I seemed to have drank too much. It’s enlightening to know you distrust me so much.”

Paul softens. He uncrosses his arms, biting his lip. Stepping over to the other man, Paul reaches out to quietly take the offered beer from the counter. Then he stands beside Till, leaning against the counter. He attempts twisting off the bottle cap. It’s on tight. He grimaces, shaking out his hand. Till is silent beside him. Paul knows he’s watching from the corner of his eye, as watchful as he tends to be. With a strained grunt, Paul tries again, but the sharp edges cut into his fingers too much.

“Damn it,” Paul huffs. He holds it out to Till. Till snorts. He exchanges bottles with Paul, pops off the cap for him, and then they swap once more. Paul takes a drink. Till watches him silently, his face relaxed from his state of intoxication—his eyes are open, not quite as closed off. He’s smiling slightly, cheeks warm.

“Sorry,” Paul mutters, pausing to take another drink from the bottle. It’s bitter. He presses his lips together. Till says nothing. Paul continues.

“Stupid of me to jump to conclusions. I just figured that would be why you would’ve forgotten about me. Had someone else to play with.”

“I thought you were fine with that.”

“It’s different if it’s at my expense,” Paul mutters, stroking his thumb over the lip of the bottle in his hand, eyes downcast, “I don’t care if you do it on your own time. It’s just really shitty if you do it when we made plans… To hang out.”

Till nods beside him.

“I understand that. I apologize for my… Concerning absence.”

Paul snorts. He looks at him with a wry smile on his boyish face.

“Even when you’re drunk, you still try to one-up me with vocabulary.”

Till smirks at him, bringing out crow’s feet and his laugh lines. He’s quite handsome. Paul sweeps his gaze from his rugged face, along his muscular arms, his nice figure clothed in a tight-fitting shirt and black pants. Till smacks his lips after taking another mouthful of his beer and then sighs with dissatisfaction.

“Doesn’t taste as good when you’re already a bit drunk.”

Paul huffs a dry laugh.

“It does melt into one nasty taste, doesn’t it? No subtleties of taste anymore, when you’ve been drinking it for a while.”

Till sets his bottle aside. He reaches out to take Paul’s. Paul makes a noise of complaint, and nearly begins to vocalize how _he’s_ not the one with compromised taste buds, but Till grabbing his hand and guiding him out from the kitchen keeps him from doing so. Paul is momentarily distracted by how hard Till is grasping his hand and his wrist—and just how much his hand absorbs his own. Quite a difference in size.

Before he even realizes it, Paul is pulled into Till’s bedroom, the door is shut, and then he’s pressed against it. Till’s beer breath stinks, overwhelming his senses. Paul makes a face. He looks up into glassy green eyes—he can barely see them through the dim illumination of the sun, peeking through the cracks of drawn drapes. It’s dark in here. Till angles his head and leans in to kiss him. His full lips pretty much cover Paul’s mouth entirely. It’s like he’s being consumed. And it’s not enjoyable. Paul turns his head out of it, breaking the briefly lived kiss, earning a confused look from Till.

“No kissing for now,” Paul says plainly, resting a hand on Till’s wide chest, “I just want to see you naked. Thanks.”

Till pauses, and then he snorts rather unattractively. Quite drunkenly. Paul smiles faintly, watching as the other man took an unsteady step back. He proceeds to rip off his shirt without much grace, revealing a broad torso, tight with muscle and decorated with body hair. He throws the shirt elsewhere, and takes two more steps back while working on the button and zipper to his black pants. It seems that he loses sense of coordination; his knees hit the bed, and then he’s collapsing back upon it with a surprised grunt. Paul laughs.

“Alright, I’ll help,” he says, approaching the bed. He pushes Till’s legs apart, standing between his knees, and reaches down to undo his button and zipper. Till is splayed out, his red hair wild once more. He gives him a lopsided grin, exposing shark-like teeth. Amusement shines in his glassy eyes.

"You better be able to perform, Till,” Paul muses light-heartedly while working his pants down his thick, muscular thighs. Till unhelpfully attempts to lift his hips. Till grunts and murmurs with his grin softening, “I’m already half way there. Don’t you worry.”

“It seems so,” Paul laughs, after casting a quick glance towards Till’s groin. “My concerns are no more.”

“I’m appalled you would ever doubt me.”

“I won’t question the power of your dick from this point forward.”

“Good. If you’d like to be convinced further, go ahead and take a closer look.”

**Author's Note:**

> babypaulchen.tumblr.com


End file.
